


Mutual Indulgence

by aniay



Category: Transformers, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sticky Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aniay/pseuds/aniay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus and Red Alert indulge in forbidden delights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutual Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tfanonkink and betaed by ultharkitty

Optimus returned to his quarters more than a little tense. He'd had a thirty minute break from his duties, and what he desperately needed was a bit of relaxation. He leaned against the door, closing it behind him, and keyed the lock.

Safe in the confines of his quarters, he felt he could indulge in one of his secret guilty pleasures. He opened his mask, then let his panel snick open and his cord extend.

He sighed in relief as cold air brushed against it. Being the leader, and someone who was constantly looked up to, he had to reign in all the expressiveness he'd been created with. He had to behave in a calm and composed manner.

At first it grated on his nerves, making him highly strung, with emotions coiling on themselves and twisting his circuits.

This... this was his liberation. He opened up... exposing himself completely. It was both freeing and exciting at the same time. The naughtiness of being so completely open made the gentle excitement coil in his abdomen with a heavy weight, as he sat at his desk filling forms with his cord lying heavily against his thigh.

Sometimes he considered leaving his door open so that someone would see, even if only a glimpse.

Then he would bite his lip-plate in nervousness, excitement fluttering in his groin, and cord pressurizing at the prospect of being that... naughty.

But he never did that... he just walked around and went about whatever he was doing, occasionally shivering when a wayward gust of air brushed against his moist valve.

* * *

Red Alert was diligent in all he did. He performed his duties as perfectly as possible. Being the commanding security officer he understood his responsibilities all too well. He could keep his friends safe, and he could prevent any harm, provided he could keep an optic on everything.

Since becoming CSO, appointed so graciously by Prime himself, he'd made sure to get all the possible security upgrades including direct live feed. Plus a specialized multi-threading processor to divide his processing power equally between every single video feed that streamed directly into him.

He had explained his choice of profession as taking pleasure and satisfaction in keeping others safe. It was, basically, the truth, but still only half of it. He took pleasure in more than keeping others safe. He took pleasure in watching. The mechs assigned to monitor duty didn't know about a channel designated for feeds from private quarters. Red was aware that Blaster probably suspected, the communications officer being someone to gatherer any and all intel.

Red Alert was past the time he felt guilty about his little quirk, now he watched them go about their lives, thriving under his watchful optic, safe because his processor spent over 80% on keeping the Ark and its tenants secure.

He watched them work and sleep, watched them refuel and relax, and all the time his body thrummed with the awareness that they didn't know, they weren't aware of how much he saw. Giddy with power of keeping them all safe.

On rare occasions, he allowed himself to access the video feeds at night and watch as the bodies of his fellow Autobots sparked in the darkness. He loved to trace his optics over bodies entangled with pleasure, heat pooling in his interface, fans working twice as fast as normal to cool his overheating frame

* * *

Optimus sat at his desk, panel open, and hummed some human tune as he worked through the list of supplies that Ratchet insisted needed his approval ASAP.

/Prime./ It was Red Alert pinging him.

/Yes, Red Alert?/

/Can I come in?/ Prime's vents hitched. He snapped his mask back in place, but he hesitated before closing his panel, excitement coiling in his abdomen, spark fluttering up.

/Yes/ No...

Red Alert entered and looked around; Optimus' cables twisted in anticipation.

"How can I help you?" If not for his mask Red Alert would have seen him licking his lips. If not for the desk covering his lap, he would have seen his cord pressurize in excitement.

* * *

"I have a reason to believe that someone tapped into your quarters. Would you allow me to check it?" Red looked at Optimus, really looked. His armor was flared lightly, his optics glowing more than usual. If Red didn't know better he would say that Prime was excited.

"Of course Red. Feel free to check my quarters," Optimus responded with a calm voice. Red nodded and went inside.

It had been a little white lie. If he was to be 100% honest about what he came here for, Optimus would not allow what he was about to do.

For the last few months he hadn't spotted any Decepticon spies on any of his cameras, bugs or thermal sensors. The only unwatched place was Optimus' quarters. He needed a live preview of Optimus' place, and checking for bugs was routine anyway.

* * *

When Red Alert left, Optimus sank into his chair and let his fans engage. His legs parted to relieve the pressure of his straining cord.

That was way beyond what he had ever allowed himself.

He opened his mask, threw his head back and palmed his cord, letting his hand sneak lower, and tracing just tips of his fingers over the valve entrance.

The feeling of being so completely exposed in the presence of another, a friend and subordinate... it was heady, intense, and made Optimus moan now that he could. He was hard, and wanted nothing more than to indulge in some playing, imagining someone watching him... But he would rather wait and take care of that charge when he had more time. For now his lips felt dry, and so he went to his quarters for a cube of low-grade energon, his pressurized cord deliciously and annoyingly heavy between his legs.

* * *

Red Alert started the camera in Prime's quarters getting static at first. He manipulated the channels, codded out interference, and voila, the screen switched on and the CSO promptly gasped as he was greeted with a picture of Optimus' aft, valve open and glistening with lubrication, as he bent towards the energon dispenser.

Then Optimus straightened and turned around gulping energon. But all Red could focus on was the heavy, half pressurized spike jutting from Prime's groin.

Optimus walked away from his dispenser and went to the control panel which gave him direct access to Teletran One.

Red watched as his leader, the great Optimus Prime ,walked around his quarters open, exposed showing what should be kept hidden. The security director felt his body heating up at the performance. So wrong, so naugthy, so hot.

* * *

Optimus felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He straightened and set out a scan through his quarters and beyond. No one was around. No one was directly watching him. He let out another scan, but once again it returned with nothing.

Why did he feel like someone was watching him? Why, if someone was watching him... he shivered, his vents suddenly working faster to expel the heat. It was both terrifying and arousing, but then the creepy feeling was gone and Optimus relaxed.

* * *

Red switched off his feed. Optimus looked as though he was searching for someone, and Red couldn't help but notice Optimus' spike pressurizing fully.

He stared at the dark screen and tried to regain his composure after the sudden wave of heat that had washed through him, trying to remove his processor from what he saw. Promptly, and with much more urgency than usual, he scrambled the private frequency and departed the monitor room to take care of his other duties, the image of naked Prime burned onto his HUD.

Till the evening Red fought the urge to look back into Prime's quarters

* * *

Optimus left his quarters for the day uncomfortably constricted by closed panel and mask. But he was Prime he had to set an example with no place for personal quirks.

Till the evening Optimus waited for the prickling feeling to come back.

He made himself not look for the camera, because it had to been a camera in his quarters, and he had pretty good idea who got it there, and suspected where it was placed... still he didn't mind... really.

With his interface equipment bare he laid on his berth and spread his legs. Someone was watching him, someone who shouldn't be was seeing him naked. The awareness made his systems hum with arousal.

* * *

Red Alert dug his fingers into his chair as the feed from Prime's quarters streamed, this time directly into his processor. Having it on the screen while distracted was far too dangerous and made it easy for another to catch him at it.

His leader laid naked on his berth with legs spread comfortably, interface equipment visible. Red watched him looking at a data-pad. An old, worn out data-pad with faded paint, and then Optimus' hand started running over his his chest plates, slowly straying lower.

* * *

Optimus gasped appreciatively letting his lips part, his legs spread for a better view.

"Look at me," he said, feeling waves of heat flowing through his body.

The data-pad held pictures, old pictures and video files from Cybertron. The kinds of pictures that here on earth would be considered erotic. Pictures of frames as beautiful as they were enticing, their poses teasing but leaving enough for the imagination. Memorabilia from the past.

Whoever watched would think he was revving his engine to the contents of the data pad, and would have no idea that what really aroused Optimus was the knowledge of someone's optics on him.

* * *

Red devoured the sight. When Prime's hand fondled the pressurizing cable, he actually heard himself whimper. Optimus discarded the data-pad only to trace the inner seams of his slim thighs, spreading them further. Oh Primus... Red watched as the valve, glistening and open, appeared.

Prime's face contorted in pleasure and then he unsubspaced something, a simple pleasure rod.

Was he really carrying this all the time within himself? Red heard the sound of denting metal, not realizing it was the chair under his fingers. He tried really hard, even with his multi-threading ability, to keep his concentration split between Prime and other feeds.

* * *

Optimus looked at the rod, raised it to his lips and licked, covering with lubricant. He set it on to tiniest vibrations and traced it along his pressurized spike lazily.

Then, with one decisive movement he pushed it into his valve, arching into it, and letting out a loud groan.

Optimus pushed the rod as deep as possible, panting. He let it's end magnetize, locking it in place, then turned the vibrations faster, a lengthy keen escaping his vocalizer. He pressed one hand to his spike, the fingers of the other playing with his headlights.

* * *

Red Alert groaned and promptly squashed the sound in his vocalizer, suddenly overcome by doubts. He shouldn't be watching and yet his processor was glued to the image of Optimus, spread wantonly on his berth and pleasuring himself with a common toy.

Red Alert zoomed at the rod. It was vibrating, Prime moving his hips unconsiously. Lubricant dribbling out of the valve, sleeking his thighs. And Optimus had no idea that he was being watched.

* * *

Prime was brining himself closer and closer with every stroke of his spike, with every stray brush of his thumb on the sensitive head.

He was making himself burn, his armor pinging, coolers working hard, dispersing the heat. Were the optics of another bot on him? Surely they were eating him up, seeing his valve, wet and constricting around a toy... maybe the other bot was touching himself to the picture of him. So much more wanton and dirty that the images Optimus had brought from Cybertron.

Almost on the edge he threw his hands away, shivering with the high charge thrumming in him. Keeping himself on the brink yet not allowing himself to explode. Not yet.

* * *

Red alert whimpered in frustration when Optimus withdrew the rod from his valve, hips writhing on the berth, lubricant trickling down.

He left the rod beside him and traced his fingers over the valve rim, coating them with lubricant only to raise them to his lips and lick them clean.

Wasn't he planning to overload?

Red got a ping from his spike. To the pit with that. No one was watching, no one knew. He allowed his panel to open.

* * *

Optimus withdrew one more toy from his subspace. A long, thick immitation spike. He licked the head before sucking it inside his lips, barely able to take it.

He covered it with lubricant not caring that it dribbled off his chin to his chassis, and placed the large toy to the entrance of his valve. He pushed slowly, his hips rocking on.  
It was so big, always a stretch, even for him, but he loved it, the feeling of being filled so throughly. He tried to calm his systems down with no effect as the sensors in his valve were stimulated and shifted. He thrust the fake spike inside and withdrew it whimpering and moaning hoping that whoever watched apreciated the view as he was apreciating the audience more than he ever imagined.

* * *

Red stroked his spike with the same rythm Optimus pushed his toy in his valve. Prime was large, but the sheer girth if the toy was big even for him, and he was spreading his legs, head thrashing on the berth, lips parted and optics closed shut.

Red led a part of his processor be overwhelmed with the pleasure and excitement of watching something so intimate and hot. Of watching his leader coming undone. The great Optimus Prime.

The thought took him by surprise with it's intensity and almost pushed him over the edge.

* * *

Optimus overloaded with a loud keen, stilling the false spike deep in his valve, feeling it, clenching around it his own cord covering his abdomen in transfluid and whoever watched seeing it.

Optimus relaxed on the berth, fingers tracing iddle patterns in the transfluid. Then he looked at where he suspected the camera to be and sucked his fingers clean.

* * *

Red overloaded at the spot, that blue gaze boring into him, shooting wave after wave of pleasure and embarrassment. Spike pulsing with transfluid, his processor spiraled with the knowledge, he knows... Oh Primus. The realization making him giddy by the time the last spasm of pleasure subsided.

* * *

Optimus grinned. He had a good idea just who was watching. If he was right his... little habit was safe. If he was wrong, it was too. If it was Decepticons, he hoped he broke someone's processor with the show he'd given.

* * *

Red Alert turned off the feed. Prime knew. He knew. Prime knew that he knew, and between the two of them Red would make sure their secrets were safe.


End file.
